


I Will Posess Your Heart

by Azurite9925



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, J.D.'s thoughts, Romance, Slightly stalkerish!J.D, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azurite9925/pseuds/Azurite9925
Summary: J.D. is in love with a girl - he'd do anything for her. There's no one else like her, no one else who understands him so well. He has to have her - he'd do anything for her.A song fic of "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab for Cutie





	I Will Posess Your Heart

 

_How I wish you could see the potential_  
_The potential of you and me_  
_It's like a book elegantly bound_  
_But in a language that you can't read just yet_

 

   

_Maybe it is time for a vacation…_  

J.D. watched Veronica and Heather Chandler’s car grow smaller and smaller into the distance with a faint smile on his lips. He could still taste the blue raspberry slurpee - it was the one he’d always gotten in every 7/11, from Dallas to Sherwood, but it tasted a bit different. Tasted a bit sweeter. He didn’t remember it taste so sweet since… since his mother took him, back when they’d just moved to Rochester.   

It was the first time they’d moved, when he had just turned 4, and she wanted to show him that nothing (except everything) truly had changed since they moved from Atlanta. She’d ordered a blue raspberry, he’d done the same, and then from then on, J.D. never ordered anything but blue raspberry in the infinite times he’d been to a 7/11. 

Except, Veronica liked cherry.  

J.D. sighed and swung his leg over his motorcycle, absently revving it up and starting it back towards the newest Dean residence. As the wind combed through his hair, he found his thoughts straying back to her intelligent raven eyes… 

_Veronica Sawyer…_

She was just the sort of person J.D. could hate. A rich, smart, preppy, pretty girl who sold out her friends - Betty Finch and Martha Dunnstock - for the goddess-like Heathers. Another example of the cruelty and illusion of friendship. More people like his filthy father, people who destroy for their own ends without giving a damn about who they hurt.  

_And yet…_  

As much as J.D. found Veronica to, at first, be a detestable insect in the scale of the world, there was … something about her. Perhaps it was the way she hesitated before she forged a letter, or how she still smiled to Betty Finch in the hallways, or how she didn’t abuse her power for the harm of others (beyond what Heather Chandler wanted). It was these little imperfections in her mask that had J.D. keep an eye on her - she may not be what she seemed.  

And she wasn’t.  

She was like one of them cacti he’d seen back when he lived near Reno. They looked prickly, looked pretty damn unpleasant. But on the rare moment when J.D. caught them on a warm summer afternoon, when the water wasn’t so scarce, when it was just about autumn, when it’d been a good year - the little buds bloomed into the most beautiful flower he’d ever seen in his entire life. So fucking beautiful that his mom got seeds and they’d gardened those things in El Paso. ‘course, they didn’t grow in Sherwood Ohio. Nothing but greed, suburban hedonism, and piggish ignorance did.   

If only he could plant Veronica in his garden like those cacti. She was hot, no question about it, and J.D. was only so much of a gentleman. - he had eyes, damnit. Clever as a fox, that one (something about Harvard, she said - J.D. didn’t particularly care), and cocky too - he liked that in a woman. But even she saw that her friends were shit people - “work friends,” she called them. He prefered “Demons.” She’d be a decent person if she wasn’t slave to the whims of the three Heathers - now if only he could do something to get rid of them…   

_Well..._  

J.D. parked in front of his home with a pensive gleam in his eye. Strolling inside of his home, he sighed as he removed his jacket, hanging it on his coat rack. Throwing himself on the couch, J.D. lazily turned on the television, not really paying attention to it at all. Eventually, he sighed and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a ginger ale from the fridge before pausing.

There, on the kitchen counter, was one of his father’s guns.

J.D. smiled.

_Well… the extreme does leave an impression, doesn’t it?_    

 

 

_You gotta spend some time, love_  
_You gotta spend some time with me_  
_And I know that you'll find love_  
_I will possess your heart_

 

 

In moments like these, J.D. could almost believe in God.

_Strip Croquet indeed…_

Yet that it was - that was the reason such an angel as Veronica was snuggled into his arms, lightly dozing on his chest. Her raven curls cascaded across her ample chest, her pearly skin peppered with the little bites of his love - she was beautiful.

_Love…_

Yes, that was it. There was no other word for it - oh, that magical feeling of going from apathetically considering someone to be fully willing to protect them from the world and any grabby Remington students - this was love. This feeling of his heart - it burst, it overflowed, it ached so deeply - with every glance at her pacific form, it could be nothing else. And by God, all of those cheesy, fictitious love songs could not hope to even scratch the surface of how much he cared for the precious being trusting him enough to sleep in his arms.  

_Love…_

He held her closer and closed his eyes. Deliberately, delicately, he breathed in her steady heat and apple shampoo, committing it to memory in the faint fear of this moment dying with daybreak.  He hadn’t felt this deeply since his mother’s death - he thought the part of him which could feel so deeply died with her. And yet, it simply traveled into the depths of Veronica’s eyes ahead of time. It knew J.D. would find her, find her wit, find her perception, and wanted to rest in her before he came, savor her alone, just the two of them - what was that song? 

They will see us waving from such great heights…

Just him and Veronica, the only two people who could see just how fucked up this world was, in a cabin on a mountain, watching the world burn itself to ash. J.D. would even bring marshmallows. That sounded like nothing short of heaven, and as soon as he imagined it, an intense yearning punched him hard in the gut.

J.D. closed his eyes and swallowed the lump slowly growing in his throat. Exhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and looked to the moon as a new sense of resolution hardened within him. He was to love Veronica, keep Veronica, possess Veronica, and do whatever the hell he could to make her happy.

Even if, _especially if_ , it meant murder.

 

 

_There are days when outside your window_  
_I see my reflection as I slowly pass_  
_And I long for this mirrored perspective_  
_When we'll be lovers, lovers at last_

 

   

J.D. loved funerals.

Well, except for his mother’s, which he didn’t attend, but otherwise -

J.D. _loved_ funerals.

He thought they were hilarious - taking a maggot of a human being and significantly magnifying their puny accomplishments to the point where they seem to be almost worthy people. Of course, his Veronica would be eulogized as the angel who taught him to feel again, but others… well few others deserved the right to be so beloved.

Heather Chandler was not one of them.

Somehow, the girl who everyone thought was a complete and utter bitch escaped life sounding like the sweetest angel on earth. Just because it was a suicide, somehow, they think that she was some sort of sensitive soul who is capable of repenting for her sins.

Fucking _idiots._

But it was no matter, Chandler was dead and Veronica was no longer chained to those damned vultures - now, Veronica was his. J.D. smiled - nothing could sound better right now.

J.D. glanced at the front of the chapel. Sitting beside Heather McNamara was Veronica. He found her rather lovely in mourning clothes - a darkish blue, almost black, like she was almost grieving, but wasn’t quite there for reasons he couldn’t possibly imagine. J.D. smiled, aware that he looked like a lovestruck idiot; his Veronica had an amazing sense of humor.

Sometime when he wasn’t paying attention, the funeral had ended and people were shuffling out of the dreary hall. J.D. stood, cracking his neck with an almost sleepy ease, before heading outside. He awkwardly made his way through the crowd, wincing to himself at the sheer amount of people - he much prefered secluded places. Quickly, he slipped himself into the backwoods on the hill beside the chapel - a secluded place from which he could watch his Veronica. After all, she didn’t know he was there.

“I don’t know...” The faint chime of Veronica’s voice snapped J.D. out of his thoughts and turned his gaze towards the front of the chapel - there she was, talking to Heather McNamara. J.D. frowned at the hesitancy of her tone - was Heather making her do something she didn’t want to do.

"Look, it’s just one double date with Kurt and Ram.” J.D. felt a lump in his throat as he clenched his fists. This did not sound promising. “They promised we wouldn’t end up cow tipping again.”

“I don’t know…” J.D. internally cheered - yes, Veronica, deny that stupid yellow Barbie!

“Oh, please Veronica? I swear I’ll be your best friend,” Heather asked sweetly. At Veronica’s suffering sigh a moment later, J.D. cursed under his breath. That surely meant that she was going to say -

“Sure, Heather, but I swear to God this better not fall apart.”

J.D. pinched his lips - just like a Heather to bother Veronica. Frankly, he wasn’t an optimist like Veronica - he knew people like Kurt and Ram. Shitty Ohio football bumpkins who didn’t know the first thing about the real world and found joy in shoving animals in manure like drunk wastes of space. J.D. pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d be there, at the pasture, and he was sure as hell he’d find Veronica, regretting her choices, as usual.

Why Veronica didn’t just ditch those losers was a perennial question to J.D. Especially since there wasn’t any Heather Chandler to kill her -  though J.D. rather enjoyed when Veronica was a dead girl walking, that was a different point entirely - there was no real reason Veronica didn’t ditch the Heathers and jocks to spend time with him and maybe Betty Finch.

No one but monsters could hate Betty Finch. She was just too nice.

J.D. sighed. Too bad the nice ones were the first to die in this cruel cruel world.

It was moments like these when J.D. wished he could just make a new world in its entirety. Pretend to be God for a day, ruin this jurassic age and create a new world without idiotic dinosaurs like Kurt and Ram. Just his new world with him, his mother, Veronica - it would be a beautiful place.

J.D. snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the telltale scream of terror from the nerds, who probably back sassed Kurt and Ram. Sighing deeply, he resisted the urge to get his gun and shoot Kurt and Ram right now, in front of the funeral home so the others wouldn’t have to waste precious time dragging their maggot-ridden bodies anywhere.  

Of course, he couldn’t kill them just yet. He needed Veronica to see his point of view.  

Because when she did, they’d be so much more than this backwater corner of the world.

 

 

_You gotta spend some time, love_  
_You gotta spend some time with me_  
_And I know that you'll find love_  
_I will possess your heart_

 

   

Why the fuck wasn’t Veronica seeing his point of view? 

J.D. wanted to scream; of course, he wouldn’t, he would never scream in public. But damnit, he wanted to. It had been days, and Veronica had yet to come back to him, over the deaths of Kurt and Ram, the two filthiest maggots in Westerburg. It made a small voice in J.D. question if Veronica really could see the truth like he could, but he suppressed it.

His Veronica was worth more than this school. It was the school that dragged her down.

J.D. stopped - he was at his destination, the chemistry lab. Taking a deep breath, J.D. combed his fingers through his hair, reminding himself to keep a cool head; it wouldn’t do to show his temper around Heather Duke.

J.D. felt the edge of his smile curl - he truly felt genius for this plan. Once he had the thing in motion, Veronica would surely come back to him, and they’d roast marshmallows as the dinosaurs died. In this bag, he had a petition that would be the beginning of their new world - start it with a bang, so to say. He shook his head - now was not the time for puns of evil.

Looking into the classroom window, he saw Heather Duke quietly adjusting her things, and saw her for the pathetic girl she was; once the third in command, now the third thing on anyone’s mind. She was certainly no suicide, nor was she anything more than the remnants of an old empire; why would anyone remember a yeswoman like her?

In a way, J.D. could understand the desire to be seen, to be respected. He used to wish it from his father, before he realized how much of a monster the elder Dean was, once he murdered his own wife for his work and money - it was absolutely disgusting. He never wanted to be a damn thing like his father. Never wanted to be a thing like the people who kept breaking and breaking - people like Heather Chandler.

The sad thing was, J.D. was sure that even now, free from the chains of Heather Chandler, Heather Duke was still a blubbering, unsure, yeswoman.

It’s what made her perfect.

It’s what made her enough to get his Veronica back.

 

 

_You reject my advances and desperate pleas_  
_I won't let you let me down so easily_  
_So easily_

  
   
When he woke up that morning, he felt a stone where his heart had once been.

It was a quiet morning. Father had already left, unsurprisingly so, and so J.D. had breakfast alone. He took special care not too look at the marshmallows in the pantry - those were for him and… Veronica, when they’d finally blown the school up during the pep rally.

_Veronica…_

  
_-_  


_His mother had waved from that library window, a sweet smile across her rounded features; the features of a librarian, the features of a mother, the features of a good woman. She’d told J.D. to stay home but by damn he wouldn’t, not when he knew she was about to do something stupid._

_And she was. She thought that her love was enough to make Big Bud Dean stop._

_How wrong she was._

_H_ _is mother had waved, a sweet smile across her rounded features; the features of an optimist, the features of someone who believed in putting her foot down when it got too damned far, the features of a person too kind for their own damn good._

_Big Bud Dean had offered him marshmallows that day, to watch the destruction._

  
_-_

 

Angrily, J.D. slammed the door of the pantry closed, closing his eyes to prevent the burning in his eyes to become tears - this was getting ridiculous. He was sick and tired of being hurt, of being sad, of being so goddamned tired. Today was a day of action - there would have been a bonfire to begin the celebration of their new world.

Except, it wasn’t theirs, anymore.

It was just his.

J.D. still couldn’t believe it. A part of him wanted to say that the noose he saw last night was just a tad too loose, but goddamn, he had seen the body. Seen the stillness in her expression and figure. Seen the death in her eyes. She was gone.

And it was all Westerberg's fault.

J.D. glanced at the bag on the other side of his cereal bowl - in there was his salvation. In there, he could make all the wrongs against him, against Veronica, against all those who thought like they did - he could make those wrongs right. He could make this world a better place by blasting it off the face of the planet.

It was in these moments in which J.D. could fully understand his father’s desire to blow every goddamned building to the sky. If humans were simply going to hate and hurt until people like him and Veronica would suffer and escape, what truly was the point of their existence? He might as well blow them the fuck up. Might as well end their worthless existences.

J.D. closed his eyes. _Goddamn Veronica… you can’t leave me alone like this…_  

Today, life didn’t matter. Today, his only job was to make it through the damned day, to make it through and get vengeance for what they’ve done to Veronica. He just hoped to God that when he saw her in the afterlife, she’d forgive him, love him again. It wasn’t too long now - he’d see her again, and she’d rest her head on her shoulder once more. 

_“We the students of Westerburg High, will die…"_

Yes, that sounded right.

He’d see her again, soon enough.    

 

_You gotta spend some time, love_  
_You gotta spend some time with me_  
_And I know that you'll find love_  
_I will possess your heart_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
